There is a fine category of people who appreciate every form of art. And what can be more artistic then the music flowing from a violin? I must confess that I myself subscribe to this group. Yet when my dear husband decided not to only admire the lovely music but produce it, I could not help but flinch. You see, he was not bestowed by God with a musical ear. And this combined with his hobby, that of pushing my limits, to which he devoted great energy and amount of his precious time, made me see the future rather in a dim light.
And dim was it to be. For such an artistic activity required the perfect setting. More precisely, he insisted that he should only play at a specific time. And what a coincidence, it was precisely the hour I usually returned from work. As if the headache I developed throughout the day wasnt sufficient to break my head, the infernal screech was an added pleasure. I never lived such an exp